Snowballs and Fun Times
by AvisQuest9513
Summary: Aster may be a lot of things: excellent artist, deadpan snarker, stubborn as hell Aussie, but one thing he certainly is not is a figure skater. So, why can't that Frost girl just get the bloody point, already! Light Bunnymund/Jack. Fem!Jack. All-Human!AU.


Title: Snowballs and Fun Times

Summary: Aster may be a lot of things: excellent artist, deadpan snarker, stubborn as hell Aussie, but one thing he certainly is _not_ is a figure skater. So, why can't that Frost girl just get the bloody point, already?! Light Bunnymund/Jack. Fem!Jack. All-Human!AU.

Pairing(s): Jackrabbit

Rating: K+

Warning(s): Minor coarse language, and a semi-relationship in which one of the parties is underage. (Bunnymund is 21; Jack is 16.)

Word Count: 1, 305

**A/N****: Unbetad. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

* * *

E. Aster Bunnymund wondered what he could have possibly done to deserve this. He clenched his bed covers tightly, trying to suppress a growl. It was an early Saturday morning – the one day of the week where he could actually _sleep in_ – and at nine o'clock, his apartment doorbell just had to ring its bloody annoying chirp. Groaning, he turned, landing on his stomach. His pillow defiantly bruised his head, trying to block the insufferable noise.

"Maybe, if I ignore 'em, they'll bugger off," he grumbled, closing his eyes.

Unfortunately, his ringer was persistent – delightful.

With a couple of choice words muttered under his breath, the tall, muscular man flung the covers off his person unceremoniously; putting on his pink bunny slippers hastily, he grabbed a dark green bath robe and tied the belt around his bare upper half. As he hurried downstairs, quietly as to not disturb his roommate, Sandy, a flash of white paused him – snow. 'Wonderful,' he scowled. It wasn't bad enough that he had to be awakened early, there just had to be a winter wonderland to greet him. It couldn't possibly get any worse, can it?

Obviously, it can.

A familiar white-haired migraine snickered. Twitching, he glowered down at her. Her eyes looked up at him in mirth as a smirk drew upon her lips.

"Nice slippers."

Standing on the front porch of his apartment all bundled up, large bag in tow, was his neighbor's teenage daughter, Jacqueline Frost North, but it wasn't the girl, or the mischievous glint in her blue eyes that had his blood boiling. No – it was the tiny, golden document the little hooligan was proudly holding.

He gritted his teeth.

Never faltered did her smirk.

Damn sheila.

"Come on, Kangaroo," she said, pointing at the wretched paper, "a promise is a promise."

He glared.

"It's bloody freezing out here," was his curt response, noting the freshly fallen snow with distaste.

She shrugged.

"Wear a jacket."

"I still won't go ice skating, mate."

The white-haired girl pouted, crossing her arms.

"Oh, come on, Bunny," she said, "Don't be such a sourpuss."

E. Aster Bunnymund gave a long, irritable sigh. Large were the eyes of Frost. Massaging his temples, he looked longingly at his living room, knowing that Frost won't take no for an answer.

"…Fine," he said finally.

"Yes – "

"But only this one time, got it?"

Grinning, the bane of his existence mock saluted.

"Aye, Aye, Captain."

The door of Aster and Sandy's apartment opened some. Frost's blue eyes peered about curiously. Though small, the apartment was quite quaint. Its air was warm and inviting. Numerous, nature-themed paintings – of which Aster took great pride in – hung up on dark, wooden walls; a couple of books laid scattered here and there – especially on the coffee table and the plush couches.

"Make yourself at home," he said reluctantly, allowing the teen access to his abode, "but don't touch _anything_."

Flippantly, said teen waved off his request, plopped down on a burgundy couch, and told him not to worry – that there would be no better angel than her. Narrowing his eyes, he snorted. True had better be that proclamation. As he trotted up the stairs, he eyed her, supervising her every move just to make sure. Astonishingly – and annoyingly – the teenager was, indeed, on her best behavior.

'What a development,' he mused.

* * *

After a good while of scavenging, he finally found his only winter wear: a mammoth, fuzzy, crimson coat courtesy of his neighbor, North, and navy blue trousers given to him by his friend and schoolmate, Tooth. Surprisingly, the coat didn't engulf his form like he thought it would – it actually fitted him quite well. Chucking his old skates over his shoulder, he put on a striped ski cap and headed downstairs.

When he came back down, he happened upon a droll sight – Frost, who, by now, had hidden the document that had him in this mess, was reading a map. Contentment was not written on her features, though, if the crumpled up paper was any indication. Quietly, he picked up the wrinkled paper and folded it back. The directions were to the Burgess Skating Arena, one of the most popular venues in town.

"Well, that's just queer," he muttered, furrowing his brows.

Surely, if Frost wanted to skate, she would want to go to a local hot spot, wouldn't she? Shaking his head, the Australian divided the paper and placed it in his front pocket. He could always ask the girl once they're in the car.

Finally turning around the staircase, he greeted her.

"G'day, mate. Ready to go?"

Frost scrambled over, bag hunched over her small shoulders as a smile brightened her face.

"Since yesterday!" she said, as she bounced up and down excitedly.

Despite his harsh demeanor, the older man let out a light chuckle. Her energy was contagious.

* * *

Aster turned on his truck. Looking at his passenger, he asked her why she doesn't want to go to the Burgess Skating Arena.

Mystery was in her smile.

"I know somewhere even better."

* * *

It turned out that that "somewhere" was a frozen pond that neared a giant rock and a massive, snowy meadow. It also turned out that, like his teen years, he had absolutely no sense of grace.

Gritting his teeth, he took another shaky step onto the ice, legs wobbling like a newborn fawn. His eyes twitched once he noticed the greater luck Frost had. Elegance she personified as she leaped, twirled, glided, and pirouetted across and above the ice. Bliss was woven in her spirit as she danced around him, laughing freely, cheerfully. Ice was her stage. She – its prodigious performer – and a bloody show pony.

Suddenly, his control began to slip – even more so.

"Hey, Frostbite!" he called, skates teetering madly – much to his displeasure, "Mind lending me a hand?!"

The girl responded quickly. Just as he was about to fall over, she hooked his arm over her shoulders and held the large man upright. For the first time since he had been on the damn ice, his body was still. Frost's long, white hair brushed against his coat, her chilly breath mingling with his. Odd gentleness shone in those icy blue eyes as she gazed up at him.

He frowned.

"Fro –"

Abruptly, she gave him a light peek on his cheek. Flushing, he spluttered, unaware that, henceforth, she stopped holding him and started skating away.

"What the…blimey hell was that?!"

She looked over her shoulder, brow raised, face an otherwise perfect definition of innocence.

"What? A heroine can't get a kiss from her fair damsel?"

He scoffed; a strangely playful smile, unknowingly, appearing on his mouth.

"If anyone's the damsel around here, it's you, Frostbite."

"Is that so?"

"Of course – "

Splat!

His hand touched the snow that imprinted his gobsmacked face. Where the hell did that come from?

As, if to answer his question, a smirking Jackie pulled a snowball from one of her pockets and scrutinized it. His eyes narrowed. Why, that little she-devil…

"If you want me to be your damsel," she said, now tossing the snowball up the air, "then, you're going to have to beat me at my own game, Kangaroo."

"Challenge accepted, Frostbite."

* * *

If one were to happen upon a certain, frozen pond, they would, no doubt, find the sight peculiar – especially, if one happened to know its actors. Youthful laughter and mature chuckles resounded in the faraway area. A young man and an even younger lady pelted each other with snowballs, and frolicked in the winter wonderland. Lessons were taught – and inappropriate words were uttered – as the young lady showed the older man the art of figure skating. Ice forts were implanted among several, different parts of the terrain. Angels kissed many white surfaces.

The once bare snow now had the memories of snowballs and fun times.


End file.
